More Than a Mission (5 page)

F
rustration.

That was the only word Aidan could use to describe his feelings on so many levels.

A few days had gone by and he had yet to be able to charm his way into her cottage.

Forget charming his way into her pants. The lady might as well have on a cast-iron chastity belt given how effectively she countered his every attempt to get close. She was a master, he'd give her that.

Not to mention that in the days that he'd been in the restaurant, he'd seen a woman who was patient and kind and all-so-nice that it was hard to imagine a side of her that could kill a man in cold blood.

Frustration. Again.

On a positive note, he had actually managed to fake being a halfway decent bartender the first few days with Lucia's help via the earpiece. Luckily, tastes in Leonia were rather pedestrian. By the end of the week, he had memorized the most commonly requested libations and discovered the many attributes of the restaurant's favorite wine. It was from a local vineyard along the coast and not all that far from Prince Reginald's country estate. He wondered if the Sparrow had bought the wine before or after killing the prince.

He and Lucia were partaking a glass of that vintage as they monitored Elizabeth's activities thanks to the strategically placed cameras. Although the restaurant had closed nearly an hour earlier and all of the staff had gone home, Elizabeth continued to work.

She finally gave a little nod of her head and seemingly satisfied, went back through the kitchen and out the rear door. Once in the backyard, another camera that he had set up in a hanging flower pot on the patio picked up her movement toward the cottage. She entered, closed the door and lights snapped on inside.

“The Sparrow's in her nest for the night,” he muttered and took another sip of the wine. He sat there, watching the silent screens, still pondering how he would get into the cottage to plant the other surveillance equipment.

There was generally too much activity during working hours. Every night for the past few days, Elizabeth had gone straight home after work, making it impossible for him to sneak in.

About half an hour later, he was still considering whether he could break in tomorrow between when he left the restaurant for the night and Elizabeth finally closing up, when he noticed the lights in the cottage snap off. The Sparrow was ready for bed.

Surprisingly, however, Elizabeth walked out of the cottage a second later, clearly not dressed for sleep. She had on a black form-fitting cocktail dress. Strapless, it exposed the paler skin of her shoulders and arms, and dropped down to only mid-thigh, gracing him with a view of those sinfully long and lusciously toned legs.

Aidan bolted upright in his chair. “It's eleven-thirty. Where could she be going?”

“Homebody, huh?” Lucia quipped again, but Aidan glared at her.

“We need to track her.”

“Time for
you
to track her. Time for me to plant some cameras,” Lucia said and rose from the table.

Aidan grabbed the binoculars, turned on the infrared sighting and rushed to the windows. He immediately picked up her body heat moving down the walk leading from the restaurant to the street. Increasing the magnification, he could make out Elizabeth's body shape turning onto the road before the building. “She's coming into town.”

“It
is
Friday night, Aidan,” Lucia said.

When he faced her, he realized she had changed into all-black clothes.

“You'll bug the cottage?”

She confirmed that she would with a nod of her head. “You'll follow our little bird?”

Glancing at his watch, he realized he only had a few minutes before Elizabeth walked past the hotel. No time to change from the jeans and T-shirt he had donned upon returning to the suite. So he just slipped his earpiece back in and grabbed his leather jacket.

“Keep me advised of what's going on,” he instructed and Lucia picked up one of the walkie-talkies set to the same frequency as the earpiece.

“I'll need about half an hour,” she advised and he raised an eyebrow at her comment.

“Don't think I can keep her occupied for that long?”

Lucia laughed and shook her head. “Come on, Aidan. So far you're batting zero in that department.”

He was annoyed that she was right, but he had his reasons for not pushing too hard. If Elizabeth was the Sparrow, and there was little so far to contradict that possibility except his malfunctioning intuition, he couldn't let himself rush things and maybe make a mistake. He had done that once before and Mitch had paid the price.

“I'm a patient man, Lucia. Some women can't be rushed,” he responded.

“Whatever,” she replied with a flip of her hand. “Just give me half an hour.”

With that, she left the suite and he hurried after her, but took the elevator while she went to the stairs so as to remain inconspicuous.

He stood there, impatient, tapping his foot while he waited, hoping he wouldn't miss Elizabeth as she passed by the building. Not that she would be all that hard to find. There weren't that many places she could go on a Friday night at nearly midnight.

As the elevator arrived and he stepped in, he made a mental list of the dozen or so establishments he had noticed on one of his earlier walks, imagining which of those someone like Elizabeth might favor.

A nice quiet pub somewhere? Then he recalled what she was wearing. Not what you wore to hoist a pint with the locals. As he reached the ground floor, he hurried through the lobby and paused by the entrance to the hotel. Peering out, he caught sight of her about a block up, just turning onto one of the side streets, and smiled.

The Sparrow was about to find out just how persuasive he could be.

 

The Women's Artists' Cooperative was one of those places that became whatever you needed it to be. During the week the site hosted various literary events, displays of local art and the Wednesday Wing Woman social for women over sixty-five. On Friday and Saturday nights, it transformed into a club featuring local female bands of differing persuasions.

For the women of Leonia, there was no better place to be on a Friday night than the WAC as it was affectionately known by the female population. For the men, the term WAC had a whole different meaning. Not necessarily a positive one.

Most men in town knew to stay away on the weekends since the women at the WAC went there to be free of the pressures of man/woman mating rituals. It was a way that women could bond and enjoy themselves without any inhibitions.

Elizabeth loved that about the WAC. Within its walls, she could spend time with the few women she counted as friends.

Tonight they were meeting at the WAC to celebrate Natalie successfully passing her final exam. With her help, Natalie had learned the secrets to a scrumptious chocolate souffle. She smiled, thinking of the young woman's excitement as she had told her.

As she stepped through the door, she spotted her friends seated at a table near the dance floor and rushed over. On stage, a band of women barely past their teens energetically played a No Doubt tune. The singer was doing a passable imitation of Gwen Stefani and had even styled her dress and hairstyle to mimic the celebrity.

At the table, she hugged all her friends and once she sat, they ordered another round of drinks and toasted Natalie's success. Talk came quickly and easily with the other women as did the desire to dance as the band launched into their own version of “Cruel to be Kind.”

Inclining her head in the direction of the dance floor, she said, “Anyone care to join me?”

Natalie and Samantha, a designer with her own clothing shop in town, jumped at her suggestion. The last woman at the table—Kate, the owner of an upscale bath and body store—shook her head. “I'll hold our spot.”

Together, the three women eased onto a free spot at the edge of the dance floor and Elizabeth gave herself over to the beat, moving in time to the bass line of the song. Smiling and feeling relaxed for the first time in days, she danced through the song and then stayed on the floor when the band began another tune with a similar beat.

She was enjoying the music and her friends until Natalie leaned over and said, “Check out what just walked in.”

Elizabeth followed the direction of Natalie's gaze. Aidan. He was sauntering past a score of women near the long runway from the club's entrance to the main section of the WAC. As he passed and made his way to the bar, heads turned to watch him go by.

She felt only a tiny bit of vindication that she wasn't alone in her attraction to his physical attributes. That feeling was chased by an emotion she normally didn't experience—jealousy.

And then that unsettling feeling that had been plaguing her for the last few days resurfaced. She finally realized the cause of it—Aidan.

Looking away from him, she moved until her back was to the bar and tried to rededicate herself to the music and the fun she had been having just moments earlier. A difficult thing to do with Aidan sitting at the bar. She told herself just to relax, but it was impossible.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her glass to quench the thirst she had worked up while dancing, only to find it empty. Looking around, she realized there wasn't a waitress in sight. She had only one choice—head to the bar or suffer being parched.

As she glanced toward where Aidan was sitting barely twenty feet away, she noted his broad shoulders filling out the black leather of his jacket. Remembering the strength of them when he had been swimming the other day, she cursed beneath her breath.

She would be damned if she let him wreck her night.

H
e was drowning in a sea of estrogen, Aidan thought as he sipped on the beer he had ordered. Picking up the long-neck bottle, he took another slug as he tried not to look stupid surrounded by the dozens of women packed into the club. He'd obviously made a major gaffe.

Either Elizabeth was gay—and he couldn't believe that his radar was that off—or he'd stumbled into what was clearly intended to be a ladies'-only club.

No wonder the bouncer, a rather burly woman he recalled seeing on the docks, had given him an odd and unfriendly glance as he had paid the admission fee.

He shook his head at his own stupidity and his failure to reconnoiter the location. He also wondered how he would ever approach Elizabeth without seeming all stalkery. Best that he not—

“Following me?” she said and leaned one elbow on the surface of the bar as she signaled with a wave of her hand for the bartender.

Busted.
He looked up at her and faked disinterest. With a shrug, he said, “Heard the band from out on the street. They sounded pretty good. Decided to see what was up.”

A furrow appeared between her brows as she considered him. “Judging from your choice of music the other day, female bands of the indie persuasion are possibly your type. Although the black biker jacket screams hard-rock guy to me.”

He gave another indifferent shrug and tossed back a slug of the beer again. “I'm a man of eclectic tastes. And you?”

She crossed her arms after finally sliding onto the bar stool beside him. Signals definitely mixed, he thought. “The same. Men generally stay away on Friday and Saturday nights. It's an unwritten rule.”

Chuckling, he swiveled his head back and forth as if to check her statement and teased, “Well, color me stupid. I hadn't noticed.”

She surprised him by laughing. When the waiter brought her drink—a glass of red wine—she laid some money on the bar and said, “Gotta go.”

With a cool nod and another sip of his beer, he replied, “See ya.”

 

Elizabeth strolled back to her table, making sure to add what she hoped was an enticing little sway to her walk, certain that he was watching no matter his attempts to seem disinterested.

Or maybe it was totally egotistical of her to think Aidan was here because of her. Maybe he really had just been looking for some good music, although there were a few other clubs in Leonia that offered entertainment on the weekends. Some of them were probably more suitable for someone like Aidan.

As she sat at the table with her friends, Natalie inclined her head in the direction of the bar. “Brave man.”

Elizabeth settled into her seat and picked up her glass of merlot. Peering over the edge of it at her friend, she replied, “Either brave or stupid.”

Natalie narrowed her eyes as she considered Aidan once again. “Doesn't strike me as the stupid type.”

“He's yummy,” added Samantha, shooting a glance over her shoulder.

Wanting to downplay his presence, Elizabeth tried to act cool. “If you like that kind of man.”

“Girl, what woman doesn't go for that whole bad-boy routine?” Kate hooted with a nudge to Elizabeth's shoulder.

She held up her hand as if to be counted. “Me, for one. Bad boys don't linger and I've had enough of people leaving in my life.”

Her comment cast a pall over what had been a fun gathering. She immediately regretted it, heartfelt as the comment had been. Attempting to regain that earlier lightheartedness, she said, “Although I have seen him in a bathing suit. A rather brief Speedo to be exact. There's not an inch of him that needs manscaping.”

Natalie nearly spat out her drink. As it was, she gave a noisy snort. “You're not kidding, are you?”

Elizabeth looked over to where Aidan was sitting, arms spread across the bar, long-neck bottle dangling lazily from one hand. As their gazes met, he smiled and picked up his bottle as if in a toast.

She mimicked his actions, earning a round of snickers from all her friends.

“Right, not interested. Tell us another one, Lizzy Bee,” Natalie joked, using Dani's nickname for her.

“So what are you doing here, when Tall, Blond and Dangerous is over there?” Kate chimed in and pointed to Aidan.

“Why, I'm dancing, of course. Anyone care to join me?” She rose from the table.

All three of her friends looked from her to Aidan before Samantha finally stood. “I'm game.”

With a glare at Kate and Natalie, Elizabeth quipped, “Cowards,” before working her way through the crowd and back to the dance floor.

The band had switched to a classic Bangles tune. Definitely danceable, she thought and once again gave herself over to the energetic beats, trying not to think about the man sitting at the bar, possibly watching her. Every now and then, as her dancing and the crowd shifted her into a different position on the floor, she would catch a peek of him. Still lounging there, sipping his beer.

She wondered if it was his second bottle or if he was still nursing the first. Then she wondered why she cared. She wasn't one for meaningless involvements of any kind, especially with someone like Aidan who wasn't the kind to linger for long.

Faltering to the beat, she forced her mind away from thoughts of Aidan and back to the playfulness of the music. She was just loosening up a bit when the song ended and the band announced that they had a request.

Suddenly, Aidan was at her side, holding out his hand. Samantha was moving back to the table where Kate and Natalie sat, watching with extreme fascination.

The lead singer crooned the opening bars of Gloria Estefan's “Words Get in the Way.”

“I'm not interested,” she said, glancing down at his hand before shooting her gaze up to his face.

“It's just a dance,” he replied, the tone of his voice low. A bedroom voice, perfect for whispering endearments. Lush with sensual promise. A well-rehearsed voice that had likely worked for him on many an occasion.

“I'm your boss,” she hissed back and peered around to realize they were starting to attract attention, which was the last thing she needed. She liked her privacy and didn't need the village gossips wagging their tongues over her.

“I promise I won't claim harassment.” He grinned and wiggled his fingers, again urging her to dance and rather than risk a scene, she snared his hand and joined him in the slow dance.

Bad boy that he was, he took advantage of the opportunity to come close. Inclining his head, he whispered in her ear, “Relax.”

Hard to do when she was so aware of him physically. Close, but not as close as he maybe wanted. She would give him credit for that. He wasn't a total cad.

His chivalry didn't stop him from keeping his hands at her waist for the longest time while she slipped both of her hands to his shoulders—those broad, leanly muscled shoulders she remembered from the other day.

Finally, he exerted just the tiniest bit of pressure to urge her closer until she barely brushed his chest as they moved to the music.

An annoying tingle of awareness awoke again. A little shiver danced through her when he bent his head and asked, “It's not so bad, is it?”

No, it wasn't. If anything, it was a bit too good. She found herself pressing her cheek to his and moving an inch closer. Which brought a shudder and made her fight her way back from him to avoid her attraction.

She hated how she responded to him and took to mentally counting the seconds that passed in an effort to distract herself.

“Relax,” he urged again, smoothing his hands up and down her back. Pressed her to shift nearer.

Reluctantly she went, still counting. Finding that ineffective, she opted for another tack. “Gloria doesn't strike me as your type, either.”

He chuckled. “Eclectic, remember? Besides, her music soothes me.”

She jerked away and eyed him dubiously. “Soothes you?”

Aidan smiled and cradled the side of her face. “Yes, soothes. As in, to relax. To let yourself go.” As he said that, he stroked the side of her face and then eased that hand to the nape of her neck and pressed her close once more.

Once there, he continued, gently whispering in her ear. “Listen to the words. What she's trying to say.”

Despite her best efforts, she found herself doing as he asked. She let the words slip into her, let herself finally relax against him, moving her body to those sensuous beats, and he did the same.

When the song ended and the band abruptly resumed with a loud and fast number, it yanked her from the mood.

“That was—”

“Nice?” he filled in for her, a hopeful look on his face as she realized he was still holding her hand.

Too nice. “I've got to go.”

He released her and with a nod, she returned to her table of friends.

Instead of going to the bar, however, he followed her, his hand at the small of her back, as if to remind her of his presence. Not that she could drive away her awareness of him no matter how she tried.

At the table, she glared at him, hoping to make it clear that she wanted him gone, but he obviously either didn't get her hint, or more than likely, the rebel chose to ignore it. “Mind if I join you ladies?”

Her three friends, or maybe it was better to say three ex-friends, shifted to make room for a chair he secured from another table with an irresistible smile.

Elizabeth stood there, reluctant to stay, but unwilling to let Aidan spoil her night. For that matter, she was unwilling to acknowledge that she was attracted to him. He was probably used to women falling all over him constantly. And she suspected he was All-Access Aidan to anyone who was willing.

Which she wasn't.

Hesitantly, she took a seat next to Aidan and allowed her friends to engage him in conversation while she sat back, trying to gauge whether he was as he appeared—a happy-go-lucky guy, intent on just having fun as he drifted from place to place.

But when he leaned away from the table and their gazes locked, there was something else there. Something painful. She noted it as his glance fell on her, as if he, too, was trying to decide just what she was.

She realized then that he wasn't what he appeared to be.

Which was fine. She wasn't as she appeared to be, either.

 

The WAC closed its doors at two, Aidan discovered.

What amazed him was that after a long day of work, none of the women at the table seemed inclined to leave until that hour.

And so he stayed until the announcement was made for last call, and, after, he walked out of the club surrounded by Natalie, Samantha and Kate. Elizabeth was directly behind them as they ambled up the block.

Samantha and Kate lived along the town's central road. He bid each woman goodnight at their doors. That just left Natalie, her arm looped through his, and Elizabeth, who had finally moved up to walk beside them. At a street directly in front of the hotel, Natalie paused.

“This is my stop,” she teased and gave him a playful kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”

Aidan waved as Natalie crossed the street, and then faced Elizabeth. “Guess it's just the two of us.”

Elizabeth immediately protested. “There's no need for you—”

“A gentleman always walks a lady home,” he said and offered his arm.

Ignoring him, she walked in the direction of the restaurant, but Aidan followed, matching his paces so that they were side by side. He was silent, since he knew that to say anything would just drive her further away, something he didn't want to do given that he had made some inroads this evening.

Although he had watched her tonight much as he had watched her all week, he was still uncertain. Maybe even troubled by what he had seen. The Elizabeth he was getting to know didn't jibe with what he knew her to be—a ruthless killer.

The Elizabeth he had discovered had been kind. Patient with the staff and the sometimes demanding patrons. Determined, but at times—and he didn't want to admit that those times had been around him—decidedly insecure.

But of course, in his line of work, deception was a way of life.

Elizabeth had to be very very good at it, he thought, as they continued walking onward silently, moving closer and closer to the restaurant. When they reached the low stone wall marking the boundary between her property and the main road, Elizabeth stopped and faced him.

“Although I didn't ask you to, thanks for walking me home.”

He shrugged, the buckles on his black leather biker jacket jangling with the action. “It's the least I could do.”

She arched one eyebrow, half in question, half in challenge. “Really? And you expected nothing in return?”

Aidan chuckled and smiled at the audacious tone behind her words. “Well, maybe one thing.”

That perfectly shaped brow curved ever upward. “And what would that be?”